


Echo of the Meteor

by Radicals



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Bromance, Detectives, F/M, Feels, Film Noir, Gore, Humor, Multi, Original Character(s), PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con References, Terrorism, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-15
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radicals/pseuds/Radicals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine years after the Reaper War, Garrus Vakarian finds himself trapped by C-Sec regulations once again.</p>
<p>Until a certain troubled biotic entices him with the promise of new danger and excitement in the form of a new terrorist syndicate with a mysterious motive. </p>
<p>But how can a painful memory of the woman he wished he never let go be involved with this? </p>
<p>Destroy (?) Ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Prologue_

_Hope and Grief_

He remembers the heavy rain.

 He remembers the persistent dramatic flashing of lightning through dark windows. If the weather was any counsel to the nature of the news, he wouldn’t have turned up at all. He remembers that it was a Thursday.

He remembers doubtful faces of his beloved colleagues; he remembers the frustration he felt when he heard the tone of their voices and as he studied the depressed language of their bodies.

Garrus Vakarian knew what grief sounded and looked like, it was universal to him. His days at C-Sec had him meeting with grief and loss more than he would’ve liked. And his attempt at vigilantism was met with the uninvited loss of his teammates. Then the solemn atmosphere of his father and sister scattered across a lonely hospital room, his talons desperately clutching an image of better days with a woman he wished he knew better.

Yes, Garrus Vakarian was definitely well versed in ‘grief’. He hoped secretly that by his old age he would become numb towards the stinging feeling he felt whenever he felt that atmosphere in a quiet room.

Liara was the first, or the first he listened to, to speak. She never usually showed any kind of extreme emotion or at least never in his presence but with her brow furrowed, her hand brought up to her mouth in a thoughtful manner she managed to choke out:

“I knew. I knew that no one could’ve survived when I saw that beam”.

The asari doctor quickly and methodically showed her grief through pressured breaths and tears running down pale blue cheeks.

James was the second to speak, even a tough hardened soldier like him looked lost and angry.

“But she was our commander; she survived Saren, geth, the collectors AND Cerberus! Hell, she even fucking died and came back to life!”, he slammed his fist on a defenceless wall to make his point. Garrus remembered thinking one word.

‘Unfair’.

“If she survived all that shit, Reapers should’ve have been like fucking...Fuck, I don’t know” James couldn’t properly express himself through the anger he felt but the whole room knew what he was going to say or they all felt the same frustration towards this end.

Tali broke from her sorrowful stupor and through small sniffs she made a typically diplomatic approach.

“W-We should…We should remember the commander…I mean we should remember her positively a-and how she helped us…Oh Keelah!”, Tali turned into the receiving arms of Kaidan as she wept quietly. Tali’s words didn’t need to be said, they had all heard it before sometime in their lives.

Tali was never really that strong, she was easily broken and vulnerable when it came to the commander. They shared a very sisterly bond, when the commander wasn’t in the Gunnery, the sound of boisterous and cheerful laughing was frequently heard from Engineering, much to crews chagrin when they were trying to sleep.

They had their secret little in-jokes that they shared whenever on missions, Garrus always had it explained to him but it would end in ‘you had to be there’, much to _his_ chagrin. But the three of them together; ‘Team Dextro’ as the commander lovingly put it, they were unstoppable, they shared more moments in history than anyone alive. And they always did it with a wise-crack at the end.

Garrus was still waiting for that snark little comment. But that one moment at the beam run, that one moment where she could’ve joked about it, a way to let him know she was going to come back safe and sound, back into his arms with the biggest white smile on her face as they span through embrace.

But at the beam run, it was the first time the friendly smirk was wiped clean off her face. She knew that she wasn’t going to come back. Even Garrus knew deep, deep inside that she wasn’t coming back. He watched, helpless, as a lonely figure ran out of his grasp, out of his vision and out of his life, a woman he wished he knew better.

But it was damned stubbornness, his delusional hope that kept him waiting and wondering. That hope is why he was there in that sad room, on that particular Thursday, receiving news that he already knew.

He can’t remember the useless speeches from anyone after Tali until he himself said something. He was at the back of the room, away from the crowd, leaning on a wall with his arms crossed. He was the one closest to the door, not because he felt alienated from his colleagues (even though it was a very good reason) but the sickening feeling in his stomach as the worst possible outcome of his dear commander became more and more real to him almost vomiting blue liquid, he just didn’t want any witnesses to him throwing up. Finally, he spoke and all attention was on him.

“They haven’t found a body and you’re all acting like this”, he spoke clearly with defiance, his head buried in his armour collar, a protective shell from the rest of the world. Tali rested a nurturing hand on his arm, her eyes sensitive and understanding.

But, selfishly, he tore away from her comfort and turned his back on the people he’s been through history with. And before leaving, just to make sure that he would break and completely sour the sensitive atmosphere he said;

“ _I_ haven’t turned my back on the commander”. Garrus heard Tali say something as the door shut.

Garrus wished very badly that he would’ve stayed back then, that he could’ve listened to Tali’s words but none of them understood, not really. He didn’t have a homeworld to go back to, his family were safe but he didn’t want to bring the angst and anger he felt to already wounded ties with his father and Solana. Garrus decided he would leave them be.

That night he sat on a bed of somewhere he can’t remember, in a room that he doesn’t know quite where, watching memories of someone he wished he never met. He liked this one the best, before Virmire, he was watching her while Kaidan was busy explaining the perimeters of the mission, and she was listening intently, sharp decisive nods and short eyebrows furrowed meaningfully. For a moment she breaks this focus and catches his longing, watchful eye and for a second their eyes meet, if only he’d known that her glance was longing for him too, if only he’d known that stupid little schoolgirl crush she developed on the hot-headed turian officer. She looked embarrassed, quickly breaking a forbidden glance and scratching the back of her neck. The log ends there.

Garrus liked it so much because it felt fresh to him, like he discovered something new. Garrus watched it so much he could predict movements, the exact moment of Kaidan’s words where she shyly looked away, he obsessed over it so much, and he even looked up the type of armour she was wearing that day, the rifles she had used.

One night he accidentally stopped, while rewinding to his favourite moment, at their first night together. Doe blue eyes looked up to him smiling, her dark long hair entwined in his fingers, curiously playing and lovingly stroking it, she laid with him and he wished he could stop the natural progression of memories from recalling her sheer _warmth_. The sound of her voice was enough to send him over the edge. He wept into his hands, throwing his visor, a friend in itself, across the room and into a wall.

He never touched those logs again, he considered deleting them but he couldn’t even bring himself to do that.

He remembers heavy rain that night, a relentless shower that washed away tears of a woman wished he never met, a woman who he wished he knew better, a woman who didn't deserve her own fate. 

Nine years has passed since then. 


	2. Reunion and Recruitment

Chapter 1

_Reunion and Recruitment_

It was just another busy, busy day for Captain Garrus Vakarian at C-Sec. The rebuilding of the Citadel felt like it had begun at the dawn of time, construction and plans for new buildings had almost become new job for him to painstakingly sign forms, verify risk assessments, dealing with increasingly shootable politicians, ambassadors, councillors, their ensigns, their personal assistants, their wives, their girlfriends and even sometimes their mothers.

Much to the amusement to the younger officers, he often vocally complained and mocked the whiny and peevish demeanour of these too common diplomats, when they came with more paperwork to sign such as; ‘If Senator Jirus mentions his close relations with the salarian consort and her pet varren again, is that a viable reason to commit homicide?’ and ‘Spirits, please send away the next volus ambassador that tows his many asari girlfriends to his business meetings, their biotic catfights ruin my furniture’.

Another mundane and painful day for Captain Vakarian, even the paperwork came in the same order, he had to remind himself to ask his assistant to maybe shake up the order next time, just for fun. Fun, to him, used to be about overloading an YMIR Heavy Mech while dealing out headshots to Blue Suns mercenaries at the same time. Now it’s about rearranging pieces of paper just for chuckles.

He was in the middle of a particularly gruelling ordeal between the planning of the asari councillor’s new lavish and very expensive office that required a very expensive communication link to Thessia and she requested some kind of colossal construction of a water feature. He will never understand asari architecture; maybe Liara could explain it to him one day.

Garrus didn’t even bother lifting his head when the familiar sound of footsteps entered his office, the new shipment of datapads come to murder him at his desk. But he didn’t even hear the sound of an inexperienced officer spilling his specially-made dextro-amino coffee onto the floor (it happened more than he would have liked) and the wave of apologies that came afterwards. Something was different this time.

He wearily lifted his exhausted head up to a recruit who quickly became one of his more favoured assistants, Sarah Hernandez. Garrus quickly straightened up, Hernandez stood straight and neatly at attention to the (as they like to call him much to his dismissal) war hero.

“Ah, Officer Hernandez, you’re a sight for sore eyes! Please tell the boys upstairs to keep the paperwork coming they’ve almost succeeded in murdering me”, his cheerful disposition lightened up the small and cluttered office.

Sarah chuckled softly; she always let herself forget the chain of command when she was around Captain Vakarian, she liked his unconventional approach to dealing with the people around him and he always did it with a smile on his face, even when some of the nastiest diplomats came his way. Ever since she joined C-Sec, Captain Vakarian has always been looking out for her, which surprised the new recruit; her presumption was that turians kept the code of conduct closer to them then their own Bible. When she asked about this, Garrus replied, his mandibles depressed and his blue eyes fixed on the desk in front of him, he wasn’t ‘a very good turian’.

After that Sarah knew that it was a question that led to the bad memories of his past. She always wanted to know more, to learn, to sit and listen to his phenomenal stories about fighting the War (she was only 11 at the time, her memories consisted of many refugee sites and many delayed shuttles) but that look on his face made her hesitant, made her feel regretful, she knew that Captain Vakarian kept a tight and heavy lid on his war stories and maybe that was for the best.

“If the diplomats wanted to kill you sir, they probably would’ve sent an assassin”, she thought for a moment and brightly added, “You must’ve done something really bad for this form of torture”.

Garrus let out a loud chortle and shook his head, at least someone else felt like this paperwork was ridiculous. He relaxed and rested his elbows on his desk.

“How can I help, Hernandez?”.

“There’s a Kaidan Alenko to see you sir. He’s Alliance”, Garrus didn’t even need her to finish that sentence, his heart skipped a beat, his mandibles widened in sheer shock and his shoulders dropped.

Sarah quickly looked at the door and then at him, just to make sure that a legion of Banshees wasn’t behind her, his expression couldn’t have told her otherwise.

“Y-yes, ahem, send him in, officer”, he shook the shock off his head, coughed a few times and stood up quickly. _Spirits_ , he was _nervous_. He hasn’t seen Kaidan since that particular Thursday.

However the seconds that felt like hours when Hernandez spoke into her omni-tool, he was seriously considering jumping out of his window and into the Presidium Lake to live a more comfortable life with the fish.

She gave a quick salute and left on her heel to retrieve a relic he really didn’t want to see. So he just stood, feeling helpless, looking outside to the vastness of the Citadel.

“They couldn’t have given you a better view, Vakarian?”, called a familiar voice, one beckoning Garrus back into his own memories. The turian slowly and carefully turned, to see an aging human Alliance commander, thankfully wearing the biggest grin he’d ever seen him wear.

“Kaidan!”, he quickly walked over to give his old friend a handshake that was well-received. “Haha, well yes, I seem to have pissed someone off evidently”, he gave his office a pitiful look and turned his attention back to Kaidan. He was greying, wrinkles setting into his dark eyes and around his mouth but he still held that same familiar ‘Kaidan’ look, noble and thoughtful.

The aging soldiers both sat down, exchanging pleasantries, catching up on the new and remembering the old. Garrus felt a wash of relief, he refused to let himself dwell in his past but he was damned well glad that Kaidan still held him in a positive light; he was always a loyal and good friend.

“You look good Kaidan, I presume you’re still catching some action?”, Kaidan laughed heartily at the notion, shaking his head slowly.

“Let’s just say I think your paperwork and my paperwork should get together and have a drink sometime”.

“I’m relieved even a Spectre such as you still has to go through this political bullshit”.

“Are you kidding? Most of the time I’m dealing with new recruits who can’t shoot a rifle to save their lives, biotic kids who spend most of their time thinking about asari beaches and diplomats who have their self-interest at the heart of negotiations”, after numbering down his new problems with his fingers, Kaidan rested his elbows on his knees and stared down at the floor. He sighed heavily.

“Garrus, it’s very good to see you looking well, I have to admit…I was worried”, Garrus once again let his upper body become rigid, he was praying internally that he wouldn’t say that one name, that godforsaken name…

“Shepard was a big part of our lives and it’s just good to see you like this”.

And there it was, a bullet to any vital organ in his tired body, it shouldn’t had hurt that much. Amazingly, he spent nine years of his life avoiding that name and the debris and chaos that followed after it, for two years of that life he spent locked up in some expensive hotel room, wishing that he lived there. He entertained the idea of moving to some faraway garden world, possibly a colony and living out his autumn years beside a beach away from the ‘debris’.

He spluttered and coughed quietly and nodded solemnly, he wasn’t going to indulge Kaidan in talking about it, so without shame, he quickly changed the subject and peered over some untouched reports.

“It’s good to see you too, what brings you here anyway? Aren’t you swamped with Earth and the colonies?”, Garrus casually sipped 4 day old coffee, wincing slightly at the surprise. It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy Kaidan’s presence but him dropping in like this was a little more than strange.

“I _was_ until I received some…”, Kaidan scratched the back of his head, unsure on how to continue. Garrus examined at him quizzically.

“Disturbing reports”, he finished.

Garrus stopped nursing the coffee. He carefully set down the reports and brought his hand to his mouth thoughtfully.

“Sounds serious”, Garrus replied.

Kaidan handed him a datapad, he watched the turian carefully as he quickly scanned through the contents. Garrus’ heart skipped another beat.

“… _Reaper_ activity on a colony world? This is more than serious, t-this is…”, Garrus was ready to jump up, sprint through the door and catch the next shuttle to the colony but the wave of Kaidan’s hand told him to calm down.

“Yes, I know, I felt the same when I received the report from Hackett”, Kaidan stared intensely at the datapad, brow furrowed and hands clasped tightly. “I checked with Liara, she says that it may just be a piece of Reaper tech that slipped under the radar of the clean-up operation that took place after the War”, he paused. “But you know me, you can never be too careful”.

Garrus still felt out of the loop. “Wasn’t all Reaper tech destroyed by the Crucible? Just the thought of something slipping by…”, Garrus didn’t even bare thinking about maybe what the Normandy crew accomplished _still_ wasn’t enough, what _she_ did still wasn’t enough. That’s the thing about the cruel calculus of war, sometimes gung-ho soldiers and a bittersweet ending was just not enough for reality.

“That’s not all”, Kaidan sighed, wishing it wasn’t the case. “Ever heard of Syndicate 12?”, Kaidan tapped his omni-tool, bringing up a detailed field report, covering the space between him and the turian captain.

“That name rings a bell”, his mandibles twitched, he leant forward peering into the field report.

Eleven haunted looking faces stared at Garrus, he stared back. Kaidan continued, “Terrorist organization, got a pretty nice balance of aliens, so we can rule out any human interest agenda”, Garrus nodded, Cerberus left such a stigma that any terrorist activity was quickly linked to ‘special human interest agenda’.

“Their leader is a particularly nasty piece of work, war veteran with a grudge”, he expanded the image of a gritty looking turian, one of his eyes plucked out, a mandible missing, the other torn up and shredded, no facial tattoos. Garrus could only think of Saren, another ruthless yet delusional turian.

“His name is Riyus Sarasi, codename March. He was former turian special ops officer, Assassin class and he was pretty damn good at it too. He knows how to cover his tracks, annoyingly”, Garrus studied Kaidan’s face through the orange and blue glow of the hologram, from his tone and the expression on his face it was evident that Kaidan has been having some trouble nailing this guy and his cohorts down.

“And their motive?”, Garrus inquired.

“Piracy mainly, they target small and isolated colonies and then retreat back into the Terminus Systems”, Kaidan said, scratching the back of his neck and leaning back into his chair.

“Well, shit”.

“Yeah, my thoughts exactly, it’s like trying to find a needle in hay”.

“What?”.

“Oh, uh, human expression, they’re just impossible to track down is what I’m saying”. Garrus could tell that Kaidan was reciting himself with the next explanation. “And you’re probably wondering how this links up to the active piece of Reaper tech, well…when we lost communications with this colony-named Cassora-, we got reports of Syndicate 12’s ship spotted near the docking bay and then…”

“Reports of Reaper tech”, Garrus finished.

“Precisely”.

With a whoosh of his hand, Kaidan brought up the garden world in question. “And this is the colony, mostly covered in jungle and beaches, as you can guess, is hell for our probes. We can’t get close to _any_ centre of communications and we haven’t heard from the ground team in days”, Kaidan looked destitute. “The entire thing’s a mess, Vakarian”, he exasperated.

Garrus then knew what the main reason for the unexpected visit was, it wasn’t just a friendly visit from an old long-lost friend; this was recruitment. The turian felt slightly disappointed however he couldn’t deny his interest and his curiosity towards the mission and he felt flattered that Kaidan Alenko himself trusted him enough with a very sensitive Spectre assignment.

“And you know what I’m going to say-“.

“Yes I do”.

“-And I’d really appreciate it if you at least _thought_ about it”. Kaidan’s omni-tool switched off, orange and blues left the room, returning it back to its florescent office lighting.

Garrus smiled weakly through his mandibles, the enticement of ‘the old days’ was more than a little tempting but as a man of Citadel Security and even as a failure of a turian, his felt as though his mountains of paperwork came as a surprising priority. Garrus stood up, relaxing his hands on his desk and turned to the view of the Presidium. Kaidan watched him.

“Look at the Citadel, Kaidan, it’s just learning to walk again…I-I can’t just leave it now”, with that his voice-com interrupted him.

“ _Sir, the volus ambassador is here with some, um, complaints it seems_ ”, his assistant informed him. Kaidan raised an eyebrow.

Garrus dropped his shoulders and sighed heavily.

“I’ll get my things”. 

* * *

please, please, please leave constructive critcism it's very much appreicated! 


	3. Dreams and Decapitations

Chapter 2

Dreams and Decapitations

The Ardat-Yakshi was frightened.

Yet, the fear and horror preceded that name, the _disease,_ as many Asari officials liked to call it, would suggest that Ardat-Yakshi lived in the shadows of fear, preying on the afraid and the alone, killing them in every personal and intruding way possible.

But at this moment, this particular Ardat-Yakshi felt the sinking feeling in her gut, the choking in her throat and the droplets of sweat forming on her brow and she knew that it wasn’t the sweltering muggy heat of the garden world and its _fucking_ maze of a jungle. The Ardat-Yakshi honestly preferred the modern life, she loved hunting her prey within the shadows of towering buildings and dark alleyways; and she was all for going ‘native’ but even this is too much.

But the reason for her fear wasn’t the claustrophobia she felt in the heat, it was reporting back to her leader with no prey in hand. And she decided to make it _worse_ by purposely taking her leisurely time to reach the base.

The Asari shuddered at the sliver and blue titanium peeking and teasing her through vines and dense trees, she chuckled humourlessly to herself that after precisely 3,410 years of wars, murders and brutal assassinations that perhaps _today_ would be her last, killed by the hands of one very, very cruel turian. However, she refused and laughed at this possibility, she would not die in this _shithole_ of a jungle by the hands of an insane man.

As she thought about this, a whistle absent of melody broke her from her stupor. She turned to see someone she really didn’t want to see, her face dropped into a glare.

“You better have a good explanation for the boss, April, heheh”, the salarian’s nasal tones dug right into her skin. “Aren’t you Ardak-Yakki’s supposed to be unrivalled in hunting people down? And you can’t even hunt down _one_ Alliance soldier?”, he folded his arms and leant back into the base’s wall, an extremely punch able smirk spread across green skin.

“It’s _Ardat-Yakshi_ ”, she corrected, turning to face the salarian pilot. “And I wouldn’t expect someone who sits infront of a terminal all fucking day and watches asari on hanar tentacle porn to know _anything_ about danger”, April spat, walking past the engineer. The salarian’s face gradually dropped.

“H-hey, w-wait how do you-?!”.

She stopped.

“Try erasing your history logs next time, January. We really don’t need to know about your, ahem, gland infection”, she smirked, disappearing into the darkness of the base, feeling proud that this time she was able to use that comeback on her most loathed person in the syndicate.

The long walk was unbearable, dark and empty and anybody in the base could hear footsteps from a mile off (even though this made it incredibly easy to ambush the Alliance soldiers, it works against being the bearer of bad news.) April stopped when she caught a reflection of herself, the last few weeks has been more ‘get-in and get-out’ than the leisurely ‘living off royalties from piracy’ she had been promised. Her once pretty teal skin was now washed out, dirty and wounded, bruised bags hung over evergreen orbs. The stench of medi-gel and sweat clung to her, she was never that narcissistic but the one thing she wanted after shore leave was a day long spa, maybe somewhere cold and snowy.

The Ardat-Yakshi felt her heart leap out of her throat as she stood as metal doors slid open.

And there he stood a dark figure against the light of the midday sun, revealing a dominating and cruel body; intimidating yet solemn.

“I see no Alliance officer”, he started to pace across the room.

She bit her lip, staring anywhere but in his vicinity, the last time she fucked up she had to face the scrutiny of one very angry red eye staring into her soul.

“March, let me explain…”, she held up her hands in defence, shaking her head slowly, unlike her earlier days in Syndicate 12, she made a point not to stammer and stutter in front of him. April breathed vocally. “Yes, I have failed my mission but…”, she revealed a portable radio, still bloodied from the fight. April looked towards it, smiling nervously. March only tilted his head sideways, barely giving it attention.

He approached April in one step, his large body towering over the asari, his talons grasping her neck and face like an eagle to a mouse.

“Why are you afraid, April? Aren’t we a family?”, he whispered into her ear, her large eyes darting from any part of his body that had an armed weapon.

“Y…yes”, she breathed.

“Then why do you feel as though you must sabotage this family’s safety by not completing assignments?”.

“I…I don’t know”.

“Why don’t you know?”, he spoke softly.

April did not speak, she did not move under his immense power; physical and mental.

Through the exchange of words, she felt his grasp become tighter and tighter, the space between them becoming shorter and shorter.

Finally, by some miracle, the radio started up again; her ‘get out of jail free’ card.

“ _Fzzzcc…This-This isss…K-K-K-Kaidan…Lenko of t-the fffhhchccczzz…Normandy o-o-overr_ ”, the radio’s transmission fizzed and crackled from interference but the message was clear enough. March now had its attention and carelessly dropped April from his grasp. The message repeated itself and his torn mandible widened, revealing a set of rough and erratic set of shark teeth, he turned towards the fallen asari, slipping his talons under her chin, her gaze now full of relief.

“April, I am sorry for ever doubting you, my sweet”, he purred quietly, now the radio experiencing his strong grasp. “But if you _ever_ disobey me again”, March pulled her by the arm and dragged her into the courtyard of the base as 6 human heads hung against the midday sun. However the cut was not clean and smooth, anyone could tell these decapitations were possibly made by a butter knife or anything blunt and slow. Tendrils and nerves hung lifelessly, the bright light highlighting it, showcasing it; a shadowy and eerie reminder for the rest of his ‘family’.

April was thrown into the ground as March circled his ‘reminder’.

“If you ever disobey me again, you will be joining the Alliance soldiers”, he finished, walking back into the darkness. Then his voice echoed and surrounded her.

“And I’ll only be using my hands”.

After 3,140 years of life experiences, the Ardat-Yakshi cried for the first time.

* * *

For the first time in years, Garrus Vakarian was dreaming. He spent the night going over mission perimeters with Kaidan and at times, he had to stop himself from responding with ‘Yes, commander’. He was proud of the biotic; he brought back the soldier in him, slowly and carefully awakening from his slumber.

The two soldiers also spent the night drinking heavily at Purgatory; Alliance soldiers on shore leave threw inquisitive glances and suspicious whispers their way but none of them dared to approach. Garrus and Kaidan shouted over each other and argued about what exactly was ‘popping the heat sink’ and Kaidan trying desperately to explain the concept of a ‘steak’ to a turian.

And in the early hours of the morning, they parted their separate ways.

“See you tomorrow, Vakarian”, Kaidan grinned, shaking off the liquor.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow”, he replied warmly, watching the Alliance soldier wander away. Garrus thought for a moment and called out to him.

“And Kaidan?”.

“Hnuyh?”.

“I think I made the right decision”.

Kaidan span around on his heel and smiled brightly.

“I hope you’ll still be thinking that behind a waist high cover, dodging grenades and rockets!”, he laughed.

“I don’t need another rocket to the face, _thank you very much_!”, he stressed, a loud chortle afterwards.

And with that, they parted.

Garrus wiped a hand over his face and managed to fall onto the vista, wearily he brought himself back up and leaned against the rails. The turian soldier looked out onto the vastness of the skyscrapers rebuilding themselves, creating new homes and then…

Earth.

That beautiful ball of green and blue now became the thing to wake up to; the phenomenal view from the Citadel became famous. Because that’s where it ended, that’s where _she_ stopped it; the one woman and the _only_ woman who _could’ve_ stopped it.

“Shepard”, he called softly to a ghost, not caring of the self-harm that name brought with it. “I think I’m okay now”.

That night he dreamt. He wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare or a dream, he only associated bad dreams with oncoming threats and stress, Shepard often had them.

In this dream, he was standing on Menae, what looked to be seconds before the Reapers arrived; he remembered the atmosphere of the troops strongly. A strong wind blew in, washing away the oily shadows of the men stationed leaving just him. Then the sound…that awful off-key booming swept through the wind, deafening and haunting. He ran. He ran into the oily figures of dead soldiers and war heroes; trying to find something, _someone_.

He ran so fast that the surroundings blurred and swallowed him until he found himself stopping, stopping at the large reflection of the universe, galaxies dotted and stars sparkled; he whipped his head to see _her_.

A figure made of blue light, like the kind when biotics use their powers; however this figure held no physical form, only a crude shadow of someone he wished would never appear in his dreams. It turned; dark circular shapes filled the figure and approached him, touching his face and hands and held his arm, like only a lover would.

It spoke with a soft yet pleading voice.

‘Don’t leave me alone’. 


	4. Joker

Chapter 3

Joker

“Really, Kaidan?”, Garrus sighed, “ _Really?_ ”.

“It was short notice!”, the commander defended himself, a small smirk across his lips. “Plus, the old girl has been grounded for nearly a _decade_ and she’s still the best flying tin can in the Alliance”.

Garrus stood helpless facing an old relic, the sleek and timeless Normandy SR-2 was beached looking attractive and powerful in the Citadel’s docking bay. Studying the ship, he felt like he was made to go to dinner with an old girlfriend, except this one had Thannix cannons.

Garrus’ mandibles widened and threw both hands up in defeat. “And the crew?”, he began to walk towards the dock with Kaidan, readjusting the shamelessly small duffel bag on his shoulder.

He never really needed much when going on these missions, his civvies and maybe some _actual_ dextro-amino food but never too much, he’d rather not go through the same microwaveable grunge that the Alliance called ‘Turian soup’, Garrus swore he saw one of those things _move_ last time he was aboard.

“Skeleton, a few old faces I managed to-“.

“Sir! Captain Vakarian!”.

Kaidan was interrupted by a C-Sec officer running at full speed towards the both of them. Kaidan turned to Garrus with a raised brow and gave a small smile.

“No, you’re not allowed paperwork on the ship, that is an order”, the biotic jested.

Garrus sighed once again, something he was doing a lot of lately, and rubbed his forehead. He excused himself and quickly walked to his officer, Hernandez.

“Hernandez”, he started, gently placing a hand on her shoulder and turned her 180 degrees toward the elevator. “Hernandez, please turn around and take back the datapads and-“

The ebony-haired young officer quickly regained her stance, facing him with large, eager brown eyes.

“I’m coming with you”, she stood straight and neat, looking directly into his eyes.

It must have been at least two minutes before either of them said anything, Hernandez keeping up the staring competition and Garrus feeling more and more like a stressed boyfriend. He brought two of his talons to his face and squeezed his eyes.

“You want to _what?_ ”, he said in a slightly higher octave. He should’ve really noticed the duffel bag bumping off her as she ran and leapt into the Normandy before she got a word in edgewise.

“Don’t give me that look, Captain”, she said each word firmly, like she planned this beforehand, knowing what to say; and that scared the shit out of Garrus Vakarian. The great Archangel scared to his wits by a prepared 5’3’’ human.

Hernandez continued, Garrus was pretty sure she didn’t do that odd human habit of ‘blinking’ for 5 minutes now. The C-Sec officer gave him a confident smile, “Captain, when you appointed me the task leader for the Kilus homicide case, it wasn’t because of your personal bias towards me, it was because you _knew_ I could achieve results”, she put her hands on her hips, leaning forwards slightly. “Which I _did_ , might I remind you”, Hernandez beamed.

To the 39 year old turian, this felt more and more like the interview 2 years ago, that feeling almost gave him whiplash. Sarah Hernandez will always be stubborn and she’ll probably be running C-Sec one day too. If there wasn’t something she was it was _humble_.

Garrus was defeated, knocked out of the ball park from his favourite C-Sec officer and that’s what he liked about her. “Go talk to Commander Alenko”, he said softly, stepping aside. Hernandez walked past him, nodding in thanks, she either knew with all of her heart that he would give in or she wore the mask _very_ well. Something he could undeniably relate to.

After deal breakers and negotiations to adjust the new team member into the mission, it was getting scarily close to leaving the Citadel for good. Garrus gave one last look at his safety net, the murmur and hub-bub of the intergalactic endeavour, twice saved. And through the squint of his eye, the small corner, he could see that beautiful blue and green orb reminding him and never letting him forget.

The interior of the Normandy was just how he remembered it, down to the smell and just the sheer feel of the metal against his palms. He felt like running out the airlock as soon as he entered, basically. ‘Too much to handle’, he thought sourly.

“Ready to evacuate dock bay, commander”, from the familiarity of that voice he felt it was 10 years ago again, like he was catapulted back a decade. Garrus approached the helm of the pilot’s chair cautiously, as if he was expecting a ghost of some sort from a horror vid.

“Joker?”, the turian called.

The leather chair span round faster than he could finish, tired lifeless green eyes looked in astonishment and disbelief, off white’s widened and a jaw dropped to the floor.

“Garrus…Vakar…”, Joker mumbled, realizing he wasn’t in a dream, his smile and hands started to go all over the place.  “Garrus Vakarian, _right in front of me_!”, he clapped once and tried to get up multiple times through his astonishment. “I…uhh…would shake your hand but I might break my ribs, y’know can always count on turian strength to break my hand, happened before at Purgatory”, he spoke fast and clearly, never missing a beat, he never changed even after what happened after the War.

But as Garrus started to take in Joker he unfortunately saw the changes, deep wrinkles around the mouth and eyes, hair grew out, pulled back into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. Even as a turian, he saw that his various attempts at trimming facial hair had left it erratic and blotchy.

Garrus laughed softly. “I’ve pulled the stick out of my ass and I’m now using it to negotiate with politicians”.

“Wow, Archangel trapped behind a desk, that’s just-just hilarious”, Joker laughed, sliding a hand over his stubble. “They tried to put me behind teaching a bunch of kids, I-I literally told them to shove it up their asses, I mean _me_ as a mentor? I mean Jack’s got the motivation and the whole ‘cool off-beat teacher’ thing going on b-but I can barely get myself up in the mornings, y’know? They even tried to give me an escort to ‘help’ me but they’re just two young dicks, who were coddled in some warm refugee centre during the War, trying to give _me_ life advice, saying I’ve got problems the size of _Thessia_ , that ain’t just Vrolik’s neither”, Joker breathed for a moment, his hand over his mouth and his focus obviously not on catching up anymore. “Two young dicks who’ve never lost someone in a War, when you think you’re so _fucking_ safe and special, and then BAM…! You realize you’re not special, you don’t mean shit and you think you’ve got some kind of security i-in life when it’s just bullshit, really”.

Garrus realized why he kept a tight lid over his war stories, over his memories. Or else he would’ve become unhinged and unstable, a lot like his old pilot friend. When it really came down to it, he and Joker shared a lot more in common than he would’ve liked; they were exactly the same, only dealing with _it_ differently.

Joker coughed and gave a lifeless chuckle before pulling his signature cap over his eyes and creating a leather wall between him and Garrus.

“Good to see you, Garrus”, he muttered.

“Yeah, Joker, it’s good to see you too”.

Garrus looked towards the airlock, after his little ‘chat’ with Joker, it looked more than tempting.

The elevator still took 5 hours to get to _any_ floors but he didn’t really notice, the conversation between him and Joker still slightly distressed him, shook him to his very bone. Leaving his mind back at the hull, he didn’t notice bumping into a crew member.

He broke his stupor to find a certain information broker looking very startled on the floor, the same look Joker had given him when the turian revealed his presence.

“Spirits!”, he exclaimed, quickly offering a helping hand. “Liara, I’m so, so sorry-“, Garrus spluttered.

“Goddess, it’s really you!”, Liara breathed, not caring for the slight mishap on their unexpected reunion. The asari almost leapt into Garrus, hugging him for a second and holding his shoulders. “We have a lot to discuss”, she let her arms fall to her sides, a large grin spread across her face.

Liara T’soni didn’t look different; 9 years would be a laugh in the face for an asari, an alien race already blessed with a long life and a universal speciality for biotics. She wore her usual blue and white armour. Garrus felt relieved that she had not changed drastically like his other colleagues.

They walked and talked through the Crew’s quarters, Liara also found it humorous that he was now essentially working in an office job where he was over-qualified.

“I regret meeting under such interesting pretences”, she started. “But this mission appealed to me and I’m guessing it appealed to you too”.

“Are you kidding? As soon as I heard the word ‘ _Reaper_ ’, I was ready to go and get shot at”, he guffawed.

“Please rest assure, I _know_ that it’s just a piece of tech strangely left untouched by the Clean-up task force”, she held up a hand and broke from his stare. “But obviously, it distressed me. How could I refuse?”, Liara shrugged.

“I was, uhh, wondering if you could enlighten me on the members of the terrorist syndicate”, he scratched the back of his fringe. As much as he was reluctant, he would need to know more than their leader, Saren 2.0.

“Of course, this way”, Liara politely stepped out of his way as she led him into the same ‘set-up’ she had 9 years ago.

She pulled up the same 11 faces he had seen before in his office with Kaidan, they stared at him, he stared back.

“I assume Kaidan has already told you about Riyus Sarasi”, Liara tapped away at a terminal.

“Unfortunately, yeah he has”.

“Interestingly he was a prisoner of war several times, in his own special forces team”, she remarked. Garrus really didn’t need to know that, but now he did.

“Saren all over again”, he also remarked, wincing slightly.

Liara stood in front of her wall of holo-monitors, hip cocked to one side and arms crossed. “The member I am most concerned is the second-in-command…”, she enlarged the vicious looking asari’s image, various security footage of her in combat followed. “She is an Ardat-Yakshi”.

“Ardat-Yakshi?”, he repeated, his head turned slightly to Liara. “Weren’t they all eradicated in the War, back at the monastery?”, Garrus inquired, his memories of his first sighting of a Banshee would never be forgotten. “Unless Samara is keeping an army of them in secret”, he added.

“Those at the monastery were the most severe cases”, Liara explained neatly. “This Ardat-Yakshi –codename April- is…a more mild case”, Liara had trouble processing that a monster like an Ardat-Yakshi could come in ‘mild case’.

“But that doesn’t make her any less of a predator, those Alliance soldiers didn’t stand a chance”, Liara rubbed her forehead.

“Sarasi has somehow acquired some of the most skilled engineers, biotics, soldiers, infiltrators and technicians in the galaxy”, she continued. “All of them defected to Syndicate-12 after the war, at least that’s what we know”.

They stood in silence, studying each face and questioning them; ‘What made you do it?’, and they were damned sure they would get an answer soon.

Garrus stopped his train of thought when he noticed something so blindingly obvious, his mouth almost dropped. “Liara”, he started.

“Hm?”.

“If there are 12 members currently…why are there only 11 known records, video recordings and images?”.

Liara thought for a moment.

“They must have completed their family”. 

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay, my lovelies! Exams have rolled around and I've been trying really hard to get this out for the past couple of days. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

The Shepherd

She was spat out.

Spat out from the chaos and left to wither away in darkness, cold and naked on some godforsaken planet in the middle of nowhere. From the moments of consciousness she barely had, she felt the white sand, the gentle waves pushing against her body. Her mind started to question her; ‘Where are we?’, ‘Where is everyone?’, ‘Why can’t you move?’, ‘Did you finish your mission?’, ‘Is this heaven?’, ‘Is this hell?’, ‘Is everyone still alive?’, ‘Are you okay?’.

It stopped asking endless questions to an unresponsive shell until the questions became more demanding until they turned into commands, shouting and deafening.

‘Get up’.

‘Get up’.

‘Get up’.

‘You must finish what you have started’.

‘You must destroy’.

‘Get up’.

‘You must destroy what you have started’.

They spoke, spoke at her, until very slowly, her fingertips started to move randomly, her feet shuffled underneath her weight as she struggled to regain strength, to be commanded and to follow orders she had to regain strength. 

Where has she felt like this before? Voices booming and commands into a new shell, a new husk. A woman speaking above her, her body aching and numbing pain drilled into her head, her new head; soft and easily broken.

Memories were going in and out of focus, blurring into colours, simple colours. Her mind tried to recall that woman's name, her mother maybe? Where she was born? Dragged back into a world where she didn’t belong.

She could not remember.

After restlessly turning and twisting in the sand, she gradually stood, making mistakes and learning from them. Stumbling and struggling, she progressively remembered how to walk.

Around her, it was night. She looked up, stars were falling. A red hue covered the night sky.

‘You did this’, said the voice.

She looked for no one in particular, the voice held no tone or structure but it gave her words, gave her commands.

She walked towards a voice that held no structure; she walked until the sandy path held no form anymore. She looked up.

The ball of mirrors looked directly into her, reflecting her image. It floated against the sky, a nightmarish red hue against black.

The ball spoke.

‘The Machines live in you. You will destroy as they did, child”.

Who said those words? Who called her ‘child’; her father? He died next to her before the darkness.

It boomed, it screeched, changed shape into familiar strangers. Morphing and transforming into people from the past and present.

Then it changed into her image, stolen from her.

She was a poor impression of a human from a distant species, white hair and white skin, punctuated with aching red eyes. Her age was regressed to her teenage self, her skin felt new and young.

She remembers how she used to look, full of life, and full of colours; oranges, blues, pinks and greens. Now she was an unfinished drawing of a person she only wished she could remember.

Her reflection spoke to her, the same voice without tone or structure.

‘You died from chaos and now you are reborn through darkness. You; as The Lone Shepherd will continue the chaos’.

Reborn.

But that would imply something new, fresh and unharmed. She could remember everything. Through learning how to talk and walk through the ball of mirrors, she regained her ‘data’; the data that gave her ‘individuality’.

The ball of mirrors transmuted into surroundings, palm trees and horizons.

Her head was ripe, ready to explode from the confusion and the terrible booming that lived in her. She brought her hands to her face, wailing like a newborn.

A cold breeze blew through the Lone Shepherd. Waking her from the nightmare of being reborn, she stumbled around, fell over pathetically onto the sand.

But she refused, she stood, she walked slowly and surely. She refused to give up.

The sand escaped from her feet as she stepped on something unforgiving and titanium, she looked around wearily.

An abandoned colony; left in tatters, must have been hit by the Machines. The Lone Shepherd searched for resources for survival, she acquired blue light armour, protected her from the cold and the humility of being nude, medigel, rations…Basic survival needs.

For the next few days, she destroyed everything. Whatever happened to her, she became stronger than ever. The biotic flare turned a dark and dangerous purple rather than the euphoric azure. It left a fiery aftershock, she killed various creatures and it wasn’t just for her hunger, it was just pure _curiosity_. Her old self would’ve already tried to contact help, to try and regain her life and retreat back to the life that killed her twice.

The Lone Shepherd didn’t find this logical, she was content on this small planet, she did not feel any extreme or disruptive emotion but she was calm and collected alone. You could even say, she enjoyed the isolation and serenity.

But then she felt something.

She felt heavy rain.

He was alone right now too.

She could see him, sitting on the edge of some non-descript hotel room bed, watching her on a holo-screen. But it wasn’t her, not really.

What did she feel for this sad man; trapped by his own emotions and guilt, swimming in his own self-pity?

She expected ‘nothing’ but instead she felt these words, these horrible words echo through her fragile and slim body.

‘Don’t leave me alone’.

The Lone Shepherd broke from this confusing and over-whelming vision of _him_ and was returned to the isolated atmosphere of the lone colony scattered across the beach.

What exactly had she become? Able to oversee figures from her past, god-like destruction in the form of twisted biotics, the terrible voices that argued over each other and omnipotence? She definitely wasn’t the woman that man was looking at, longing for. But she hoped for him, that he wouldn’t be sad for too long.

Then they came.

They came to take her back to the chaos and ripped away from her safe isolation.

After 12 colonies of nothing but charred remains, ruins of societies and the aftermath of mindless killing machines, the endless debris and chaos, the body count on each planet…Corporal Keane Yamaguchi was started to get extremely tired.

He turned, trying to flicker up some humour to another corporal, James Vega. Vega had been placed onto the ‘Search and Recover’ task force for his unrivalled efforts in the War, he liked being revered, dropped jaws and stares often came his way and he _loved_ it.

“They better give us _so_ much shore leave after this, am I right or wrong Vega?”, Yamaguchi chimed, leaning back onto a hard wall in the shuttle.

Vega let out a small laugh and gave Yamaguchi a sterling _smack_ on the back. “Turian shots, picking up asari at Afterlife, get into a couple of bar fights and that’s me done, _amigo_ ”, a cocky smile spread across his face. “Just gotta do the rounds first, man”.

Yamaguchi gave his friend a weary smile. “Yeah, I just wish we would find _something_ ”, he rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head.

“ _Si_ , those empty houses…I’d rather have a body count than nothing”, Vega crossed his arms.

Yamaguchi found surprise at the bluntness of his words but he grudgingly understood, at least it was that _something_ that kept him hoping for just one survivor. One survivor in the horrible calculus of war could probably restore his faith in the galaxy. He had witnessed horrible things during the War, his life-long comrades _harvested_ in front of his eyes turned into his own enemy. Many nights at various bars usually drowned those memories, hard liquor and ‘comfort’ was his solution.

“ _Alright boys, approaching Nimbus, brace for landing_ ”, the female shuttle pilot spoke over the intercom.

As soon as Yamaguchi set foot off the shuttle, he groaned; jungle terrain.

To him, this would mean it would take up to 4 hours to totally clear the whole colony and this meant he wouldn’t be able to catch that date with a glass of whiskey.

Vega put a light hand on his shoulder and in an effort to cheer him up, simply smiled and tried to rally the other troops. Vega often used his natural leadership and charisma to his advantage, something Yamaguchi was probably the most envious of, Vega often played wingman when he awkwardly tried to talk to girls.

“You know the drill”, James said as they split into two teams. “Comm me if you find anything beatin’, Yamaguchi”.

“You got it, boss”, the other corporal replied, giving him a salute.

Yamaguchi thanked every god out there that the colonies cabins and base of operations were lined up neatly on the beach, maybe he could catch that date after all.

But to his irritation, it was still the early hours of the morning, which made covering all bases a lot harder.

Yamaguchi tried his best to curve and cross his way through this _maze_ of a base, quickly searching and responding back and forth with Vega and maybe this time, this time they might be able to find _something_.

He entered into a particularly large settlement along with his team of two, and then he _felt_ something. He didn’t hear or see, he felt it in his gut and you can always trust a soldier on his gut feeling.

He gave a signal to stop and search. They both looked at each other, puzzled and alert.

And then he saw his faith.

A young girl, no younger than 16, hiding behind a kitchen worktop, a purple aura illuminating her figure and her hand outstretched, a biotic field protecting her. She had some form of albinism, pale as a sheet and long white hair with unnatural eyes.

The three soldiers stared at her, dumbfounded and somehow ecstatic. 

“Man, I cannot _wait_ to tell my boyfriend about this”, one of them said, running his hand through his hair, smiling in disbelief.

Yamaguchi slowly approached her, kneeling in front of the girl, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face.

“It’s okay, you can come out”, he softly said, a hand resting against the biotic field. He turned to one of the team. “Make the call to Vega’s team”.

“Yessir”, he quickly activated his omni-tool. “Uhh, this is Beta team and we have found a female biotic hiding in one of the cabins, over”.

After that, it was history, everyone relieved for finding at least one survivor in the messes that have been the aftermath of the harvesting. They quickly called the shuttle back, laughing and smiling as they made plans to conquer the next bar, leaving the night on a high note.

The girl sat between Yamaguchi and one of the female soldiers, she moved the bangs out of her eyes lovingly and covered the survivor in a safety blanket. What struck him was that the girl did not look frightened; she held a total look of apathy and indifference. Yamaguchi calculated it down to shock.

Vega crossed his arms and sat upright, reviewing the very suspicious survivor. His eyes searching for some kind of emotion on her face and something in the back of his mind whispering to him; ‘Have I seen you before?’.

The girl stared back, the other self that lived inside her spoke:

‘ _Ah, it’s James_ ’.

Vega did not want anything to do with her, honestly, her red stare gave him the creeps and the whole ‘pity’ thing wasn’t his scene. He obviously felt for her, she was at a vulnerable age and left to survive for 3 months after the Reapers hit the colony.

But none of them did the fighting; none of them had seen what the soldiers all over the galaxy had seen, not from their crowded refugee camps and not from the safety of an underground base.

Not the shit he had seen.

Afterwards, she was quickly given over to some Alliance officials, much to Yamaguchi’s worries, eager to get their hands on a survivor from one of the colonies. She was probed, analysed, tested, examined, cross-examined, and investigated until one of older investigators became blue in the face. She blamed it all on ‘amnesia’, hoping that it would at least answer or avoid some questions.

One of them slammed the desk and looked so frustrated that his comically large eyebrows looked like they were going to pop his face.

“Can…you at least…tell us”, he held up his hands, “What…the nasty monsters did with the colonists?”, his face was now 50 shades of purple.

She tilted her head and stared at him. “I can’t remember”, the emotions she had left felt patronized, obviously this man never dealt with a girl her age before.  

They were getting nowhere; they couldn’t even get a name out of her, which was something she genuinely didn’t know. The girl felt like she 100 different people and all of them had different names.

So she lied, she lied about her name, date of birth, parents, siblings, life on the colony and her biotics. She told the officials her name was Eru, she was 17, and her parents were eezo researchers as a result of her biotics. But inside, she knew she was the woman who stopped it all. The woman, who they openly praised in front of her and after a while, mourned her absence. Inside of it all, she knew she was Shepard. But she wouldn’t go back to her life, how could she? How could she ever return to _him_ like this? Age regressed and a poor imitation of human being, she was not the woman he fell in love with anymore.

They labelled, packaged and sent her to Grissom without any time left to breathe, the Alliance couldn’t get anything out of her and she was deemed useless. ‘Oh, the irony’, she thought drolly to herself. Yamaguchi promised to visit.

“When I’m finished with all this, we’ll spend the holidays together”, he put his hands on her shoulders with a warm smile full of sympathy. “A-and…and if you need anything, just contact me”.

‘Eru’ played the part of a vulnerable, orphaned teen and nodded, forgetting about emotion.

And with that, she was sent to the very place she saved, this was getting odder by the day. Enrolling as a biotics student to very possibly be mentored under the very same person who you saved from a prison? She was seriously considering jumping out of the shuttle airlock; obviously she wasn’t able to show this emotion on her face.

The shuttle ride was full of girls and boys like herself, lost and alone as a result of the War, all biotics and gifted engineers. She looked outside from the small and circular window and for a moment, she was blown away by the vastness of the black abyss outside. 

* * *

Next Chapter: Shepard and Sarah

 


End file.
